


Doctoring The Detective

by Random_Nexus



Series: Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2019 [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fic, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, Watson's Woes, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/pseuds/Random_Nexus
Summary: Holmes accidentally cuts himself and Watson takes care of him.Written for: JWP #6: "In emergency break glass: Include broken glass in today's entry.  It may be an accident, a clue, however you wish to interpret it.-Watson's WoesJuly Writing Prompts.





	Doctoring The Detective

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's taken me all month to do 6 prompts, which is kind of pathetic, but *shrug* it's been a pretty busy month. I had no expectation of doing them all, of course, given how my limitations are these days, but I'd hoped to do more than this. Meh, that's the way the ficcery falls out, I s'pose. Anyway, here's a little slice of life fic that I've managed to smish down to 500 words, or a quintuple drabble! Wee! Hope some of you like it. :)

The sound of glass breaking somewhere behind him wasn’t too out of the ordinary—even the graceful and precise Sherlock Holmes was sometimes subject to accidents or substandard materials—however, the sound was followed by Holmes’ voice, tersely saying, “Watson, I need your assistance.”

Watson was up and across the room in mere seconds, seeing the shards of glass, an amber-green fluid spilled upon Holmes’ lab table, and blood soaking through the handkerchief Holmes had wrapped around his hand.

“Poisonous?” Watson demanded tersely, snatching his medical bag from the floor near the door to their rooms. He gave a significant glance at the spilled liquid, which had obviously been in the now-broken beaker.

“No,” Holmes replied, continuing even as Watson opened his mouth to speak, “and, yes, I have been wearing gloves when working with poisonous materials.”

With a quirk of a smile at Holmes’ long-suffering tone, Watson placed his bag in a clear spot further along Holmes’ laboratory table, opening it in expectation. “Good. Now, what happened?”

“I believe it was a flaw in the glass, as I wasn’t doing anything I haven’t in the past with that particular beaker. Sss…” Holmes winced as Watson unwrapped the handkerchief to reveal the bloody gash in the web of skin between Holmes’ left forefinger and thumb.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but this ought to be stitched,” Watson informed him regretfully, applying clean gauze and pressure to hopefully ease the bleeding.

“I thought that might be the case.” Holmes’ lips twitched into a hint of an upward curve for a moment. “No matter; I’ve plenty of examples of your good work, Doctor.”

Chuckling as he attended to his patient, Watson nodded. “Indeed, you do.” Glancing up, a twinkle in his eye, Watson added, “I suppose I cannot chastise you for carelessness this time.”

“Carelessness? I?” Holmes scoffed, watching Watson preparing a suture needle and thread, as well as the other accoutrement for mending. Holmes knew them well enough, surely, after having them used upon him a number of times before.

Watson scoffed right back at him, but didn’t look up from his task. “Not usually, of course, but sometimes...”

Wincing a little at the sting of the disinfectant soaked into the pad of gauze Watson carefully dabbed upon the wound, Holmes lifted an eyebrow. “Sometimes...?”

“You get impatient,” Watson replied, taking up the needle. His lips twitched beneath his moustache at the huff of indignant air from Holmes, nearly a snort. “Now, hush old boy,” he murmured. “I shan’t give you away. Brace yourself, here we go.”

A decidedly amused expression lingered on Holmes’ face, despite the slight narrowing of his eyes and furrowing of his brow that stood in for the wince many would have shown more obviously. Watson noticed, but was well familiar with Holmes’ rather high pain threshold. He also knew his few teasing words about impatience were as good as a chastisement and Holmes might scoff, but Watson knew his friend would probably be more careful going forward.


End file.
